More Than Meets the Skittles
by InnermostEnergon
Summary: Collection of one-shots and minifics of antics & pairings aboard the Lost Light. Much like "Skittles" but MTMTE. Will include pairings such as Rung & Fort Max, Cyclonus & Tailgate, Fulcrum & Grimlock, Swerve & Skids, and others. May include crack fics, sticky smut fics & others. FICLET REQUESTS OPEN. I will most certainly write for unpopular pairings.
1. Uncertain Certainty P1

_This fic will be a collection of one-shots of various pairings from 'More Than Meets The Eye.' Each will start with contents summary, pairing, and any applicable warnings. Some will be very smutty; the sticky variety. Each ficlet will be at least 800 words._

_I thought it would be nice to start it out with a proper pairing fic for you all; this time, my OTP, Cyclogate._

**Ficlet Name**

Uncertain Certainty _PART 1_

**Summary**

Short sweet & fluffy story of Cyclonus & Tailgate as a pairing. 99% non-smutty, _this time_.

**Pairing**

Cyclonus & Tailgate (w/ mild-mentioned Chromedome & Rewind)

**Warnings**

Eensy bitty bit of spike; nothing terribly graphic. No smut this time, sorry!

**_972 Words_**

* * *

Tailgate figured it out.

He was positive he'd figured out why Cyclonus even_ looked_ at him, let alone taught him to sing, taught him Old Cybertronian, carried him to their quarters when his legs wouldn't transform back, even helped him pick up the pieces of the vial of innermost energon he had made him (admittedly Cyclonus _was_ the one that_ broke_ it, but still.)

_Primus._

_Primus_ was why.

Primus stuck him in that _godforsaken hole_ in the Mitteus Plateau, and Primus was rewarding him his patience and perseverance the _6 million years_ he was _stuck_ down there with Cyclonus' attentions.

..._No_, no that's not it either. Cyclonus, _fearsome warrior_ Cyclonus is not some _cog_ in Primus's plans with _Tailgate's_ life. Psh.

_Frag_, this was hard.

Especially when Tailgate was, admittedly, a little overcharged, sitting in Swerve's bar, staring across the room at Cyclonus. When he saw Cyclonus, everything else _seemed_ to melt away as if to give Tailgate time alone with the warrior that the warrior wouldn't give on his own. When Cyclonus spoke to him, even when he yelled and Tailgate was sure he'd be at least missing a _limb_ in the next few seconds, his spark pulsed erratically in his chest. Not with fear, at least not for the most part, but with something he couldn't quite place any amount of digits on _at all_. The whole thing was starting to look like the most _ridiculous_ riddle.

"-ailgate, what_ about_ that?"  
Someone speaking Tailgate's name finally brought him back to reality in the Lost Light as he reset his optics a few times and looked around the table to see who exactly had spoken to him, which didn't help as the_ entire table_ was staring straight at him.

"Sorry, what was that? uh.."

Whirl spoke up, Primus-god-forsaken _Whirl_, swirling his at least 26th cube of Engex before he drank it all in one go. Just how _large_ of a tank does Whirl _have_, anyway?

"I _said_, what_ about_ your whole..._obsession_ with one-horn-short-of-a-full-set, anyway?"

The table laughed at Whirl's joke -it was obvious he wasn't on about the horns on Cyclonus's_ head_- and Tailgate reset his audials a few times and played it back in his head to make sure he heard right. Obsession? He wasn't _obsessed_...

"Obse-_obsession_? No! There's no obsession! Who said anything about an _obsession_!?"

"Riiight, and you weren't just staring at Cyclonus from across the room the entire time it took Swerve to finish a sentence."

Swerve snapped his head over to Skids and began quite loudly and drunkenly shouting something, a _lot_ of somethings, about how he does _not _in fact run his mouth, causing the entire table to break into more loud "_discussions_", thankfully none of which had to do with Tailgate _or_ Cyclonus. Tailgate stayed a few more moments, turning his audials down as so they don't shatter with the sound of Skids' grappling hook plowing _straight_ into Whirl's single optic'd face, as was the _usual,_ to look around and see who was left in the bar. Virtually no-one, except Rodimus trying to seduce pretty much_ anyone at all,_ which meant Cyclonus had taken his leave.

With no more real reason to remain, the minibot took the _loud_ opportunity to slip away undetected, heading straight for his and Cyclonus's shared quarters, only to walk right into what felt like the _surface of the sun_.

Cyclonus was sitting on his berth, his back to the door, all his engines going _full blast_. As a flier model, his engines burned much hotter and much louder than most other mechs - meaning in a small, contained area like their living quarters, they would easily heat the room up from room temperature to_ blistering_. Tailgate tried to shout over Cyclonus's engines to see if he was alright, only to find he couldn't even hear _himself_ over them. Clambering onto the berth proved ineffective, as the entire thing was about as hot as molten lead. He considered calling Ratchet for a moment until he heard something he thought he would never, ever hear from Cyclonus - a needy _groan_. Tailgate ran to the side to try and see if Cyclonus was in pain at all, his comm-link set to emergency frequency, pre-prepared incase Cyclonus _did_ need medical assistance, but instead of a gaping wound or a pained expression, he saw a sort of pleasure he thought he'd_ never_ see on Cyclonus's face, optics closed and teeth clenched in hisses of pleasure, his first rough, war-scarred clawed hand wrapped around his thick, leaking spike and squeezing it with about as much pressure as he could manage without making the thing fall off, and his other gently scraping at the first set of doors to his spark chamber.

In his _shock_ upon seeing his roommate and..._interest_ in such a private, intimate state, Tailgate did not notice the searing heat beginning to build in his own panel, nor did he notice Cyclonus's optics snap open the second the minibot turned tail and ran out of there as fast and far as possible.

His first thought was to return to the bar, but everyone had been sent back to quarters or brig (Whirl, as was the norm) by Magnus, and all he could hear was the sounds of Swerve cleaning up the bar to prepare for tomorrow. All sounds stopped when the barkeep no doubt heard Tailgate's pedes outside the door, but the minibot instead chose to not bother his admittedly rather _open-mouthed_ friend with his issue and instead went to the only other place he _ever_ seemed to go - Rewind's.


	2. Uncertain Certainty P2

**Ficlet Name**

Uncertain Certainty _PART 2_

**Summary**

Short sweet & fluffy story of Cyclonus & Tailgate as a pairing. 99% non-smutty, _this time_.

**Pairing**

Cyclonus & Tailgate (w/ mild-mentioned Chromedome & Rewind)

**Warnings**

None

**_1,082 Words_**

* * *

Tailgate rapped on Rewind's door, waited a good few moments, and knocked a little louder.

A few more moments found Tailgate standing pathetically at Rewind's door, upset, sobered, and fans working doubletime to cool down his frame from being near the searing heat of Cyclonus's engines. Rewind finally opened the door to their quarters, Chromedome behind him relaxing on their berths with oddly coloured energon next to him - probably some sort of medicine. "You really should learn to knock a little louder, Tailgate. You're lucky Chromedome has the audials of-"

Before he knew what he was doing, Tailgate was through Rewind's door, in the middle of their quarters babbling _complete_ nonsense, his visor lit up like he was trying to disarm another bomb or Whirl had carried him off again to goad a fight out of Cyclonus.

Chromedome was on his feet, experienced in calming minibots, and had Tailgate sitting on the berth with some of his own medicine to Tailgate's intake - quietly explaining it as some sort of calming thing, something Rung had given him for his night terrors; and like that, with a few sips of it, Tailgate was shaken, quivering and still very upset but at least quieted and not in a_ complete_ panic attack.

"Tailgate, what happened? your plating is searing. Should I call Ratchet?"

"N-no, Rewind, it's just-Cyclonus and I-I mean at the bar, after-I-I-mean-"

"One at a time. From start to finish. It's _alright_ Tailgate...first, did Cyclonus hurt you?"

"_No_! no he would _never_ - I mean, at least not _purposefully_-I mean I just-"

Chromedome stood up, pulling Tailgate away from his embarrassing stuttering, and pressed a nice, wonderfully _luxurious_ buffing rag coated in coolant to his chestplates, gently rubbing it between seams - not deep enough to be considering anything intimate, just at the surface, enough for it to seep in and coat his lines, lowering his core temperature _considerably_. The caring act seemed to help the panicy minibot sort his processor, and for a moment he wondered what it would be like to be cared for like that day in and day out. Rewind has it great.

"So you're not physically injured, do I have that correct?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, it's just...s-so after you guys were poking fun at the bar, I left to go get some recharge in, but when I got to our quarters - mine and Cyclonus's - the place was _staggeringly hot_ inside. It felt like I just walked into the _Pit_. I-I was really worried you know, b-because I thought maybe something was _wrong_ with him, because his engines were going like he was trying to_ take off_ -which is really silly because he was in our _living quarters_, such a _tiny_ room about half this size- and they were so loud he couldn't hear me shouting for him. And then I heard him make this noise, and I thought he was in pain and I got really really worried so I came around to see if he needed me to call a medic and what do I see? I see his-his _hand_, and his um, the new mods what are they called -they're like cables but-"

"Spikes?"

"-yeah those, he was gripping it, and self-servicing, and he didn't see me he was so into it but _wow_ I'm so confused and upset and-"

"Tailgate...why exactly would that upset you so much? I know that must have been very embarrassing, and worrying to see your roommate in possible pain, but to go into panic attacks like this?"

"Wha-what do you mean?"

"Look, Tailgate - it's hard to admit it, I know. _Trust me I know_. Especially with the two of you are so different."

Tailgate gave him a look that went inbetween incredulous and complete disbelief. Chromedome was giving him a speech like he was a sparkling with his first crush?

"Now, hear me out - this may come as a shock to you, but at the very start of the war, Spark bonding was outlawed - the enemy could get two for one bullet, and either side couldn't afford that kind of loss. Eventually things died down and people more or less forgot about spark bonding, but that doesn't mean sparks don't still yearn for the one that makes their's complete. And it's hard when you find that mech, because in days like these - after the war, where everyone has changed so much from who they were that they're barely that anymore - you may find it hard to admit to yourself that that's the mech you were meant to be with."

"So you're saying Primus _did_ have some sort of hand in this?"

"Well, if you believe in Primus sure, why not. All I'm saying is, Tailgate, that if being near Cyclonus feels right to you, then maybe you should talk to him about it before something bad happens. Lack of communication is a terrible, terrible thing Tailgate - something _far worse_ than walking in on Cyclonus _will_ happen if you don't get this sorted out."

"Get _what_ sorted out, Chromedome?"

"It's obvious to everyone but _you_ that _both_ of you are attracted to _each other_. Swerve has bets going. All you do in the bar after hours is stare at Cyclonus - and in the moments when you turn your head away to drink, or talk - Cyclonus studies you. But neither of you talk about it, or mention it, or even admit it to yourselves - and Cyclonus sure as Pit won't bring it up, so you're going to have to be the brave mech and do it, okay?"

Tailgate sat for a long moment and nodded, releasing a long sigh from his intakes. "Okay, Chromedome. You're right. Thanks for everything, you guys - is movie night still on tomorrow night?"

"Sure is, Tailgate - gonna be there? Hopefully you can drag Cyclonus with you this time."

"Um, sure, yeah I'll be there. I'm gonna go think about all this. Thanks, you guys."

Just after Tailgate slid off the berth and walked out their door, Rewind turned to Chromedome with so much amusement in his optics it shone through his visor like starlight. "'_Brave mech'_, Chromedome? _Really_? He's not a_ total_ sparkling about everything!"

"It _worked_ didn't it?"


	3. Uncertain Certainty P3

**Ficlet Name**

Uncertain Certainty _PART 3_

**Summary**

Short sweet & fluffy story of Cyclonus & Tailgate as a pairing. 99% non-smutty, _this time_.

**Pairing**

Cyclonus & Tailgate (w/ mild-mentioned Chromedome & Rewind)

**Warnings**

None

_**1,050 Words**_

* * *

In the morning after, Tailgate woke up as usual _alone_. What was strange was he was more alone than usual. Cyclonus's items, any personal effects and his entire berth in fact, were all gone. The minibot sat up from his recharge, bleary-eyed and confused, the light in his visor growing more and more in a panic as he realized Cyclonus was gone to who knows where before he even got the chance to think about bringing up their apparent problem. There wasn't a thing left of Cyclonus's - even the computer, which was built into the wall had been removed and what looked like rather forcefully.

Moments after his visor began to light up the room entirely, Tailgate was speeding down the hall to Drift's office, past every mech who began to greet him only to be completely ignored in his blind panic.

"_DRIFTWHEREDIDHEGOIMEANDIDSOMETHINGHAPPENISHEINJUREDIDIDN_-"  
"Quiet down please, Tailgate, you're trashing my energy completely and I just got it level again - look, _slowly_, what's gotten broken, stolen or missing?"

_"**CYCLONUS**!"_

Drift stared at Tailgate for an awkwardly long moment, trying to process how that could possibly make any sense. _Cyclonus_ got...broken stolen or missing? Oh!

"You mean his moving out this morning? Yeah, something about needing a larger room closer towards the hull of the ship for his engines. He straight up melted everything inside that computer - I have a work order in for one of the braniacs to come replace it. _Primus_ knows what he was doing in there to cause his engines to heat so much - something about '_meditation_', even though that's supposed to do the _opposite_ of heating your core temperature enough to _smoulder metal._ Whatever. Why do you ask?"

Tailgate paused for a minute, his entire processor, having been speeding along like a train, came to a screeching halt - more like a _complete derailment._ What exactly _did_ he hope to accomplish by running down the halls of the Lost Light shouting Drift's name _anyway_?

"...Tailgate?"

"Uh-what...room would he have moved to?"

"It's a little far, I'll draw you a map..."

* * *

There Tailgate stood, in front Cyclonus's new door -his own door, completely Tailgate free, much to Tailgate's dismay,- floundering his hands and being far too panicked to knock but needing to speak to Cyclonus far too much to walk away.

Just as the minibot was about to knock, finally having gathered the courage to tell Cyclonus a piece of his mind through a pep-talk in his own head - the door slid open, showing Cyclonus's massive form _towering_ over Tailgate, causing every ounce of spine the poor thing had to flee from him as quickly as possible, leaving a strutless, whimpering mess at Cyclonus's feet.

"...**_Tailgate_**."

"C-Cy-Cyclonus!"

"What do you _want_, Tailgate?"

"W-well you see, _Cyclonus_, I-I uh, I was in an appointment with Rung and he'd told me-"

"I don't have the_ time_ nor the _patience_ for you _Tailgate_. I knew you were pathetic but had I known you were also a _voyeur_ I would never have had the _displeasure_ of becoming acquainted with you. _Remove yourself from my sight_!"

Tailgate froze a moment, completely petrified. But then a sort of anger bubbled up inside him, and he latched onto it and rode it like it his life depended on it.

"You! You think because you're big and you're terrifyingly lethal and you fought a war I never got to even _see_ you can push me around like that!? I didn't do it on purpose I thought you were hurt! Maybe you should _learn to lock a door_ if you don't want to be bothered!"

Cyclonus's face turned from indignant anger to a more confused anger. Tailgate wondered momentarily if there was an expression Cyclonus could pull that didn't look at least somewhat angry.

"My friends at the bar told me when I'm not studying you from the opposite end that you study me, and and you always save me from Whirl and his stupid antics and you put up with me and don't think I don't notice every scrape I've been in since I got on this stupid ship you're somewhere nearby!"

"So it's _my fault_ you have the worst luck in the _entire universe_? It's _my_ fault you decided to board a ship disguising yourself as a bomb disposal unit and then actually have the complete lack of a processor enough to try _disarming a bomb_?"

"No! It's your fault I'm still alive! Chromedome was telling me about spark mates and can't you feel that too Cyclonus, or is that the one thing you're afraid of? A tiny, useless, pathetic minibot like me? I-I was the brave mech by coming here! You gotta gimme _something_ Cyclonus!"

"What do you hope to _gain_ from me Tailgate? What could you _possibly_ want from me that you couldn't get from _anyone else_?"

There was that question again. What Tailgate wants, what Tailgate thinks. "..Cyclonus, I think it's less about what _I_ want and more about want _you_ want. It all makes sense now! Cyclonus you're scared of admitting you enjoy my company because I'm-I'm weak, or I'm pathetic or careless or I didn't experience the war or whatever it is - but it's clear that you _do_ like being around me! And-and Chromedome told me they outlawed spark bonds before the war, and and you're a traditional mech - surely you think there's nothing to gain from me, right? But the war is _over_ Cyclonus and spark bonding is legal again so I don't understand-"

"Exactly. _You understand **nothing**, **Tailgate**._"

And like that the conversation was over. Cyclonus had shut himself off again, this time quite literally - Tailgate jolted as the door snapped shut, nearly scraping his faceplate as it closed. _Frag_. He'd_ finally_ figured that enigma of an ex-Decepticon out and he closes the door on him again. Maybe he should talk to Rung about Cyclonus - it's not healthy to be so _alone_, right? Without Tailgate, Cyclonus has nobody at all.


	4. Uncertain Certainty P4

**Ficlet Name**

Uncertain Certainty _PART 4_

**Summary**

Short sweet & fluffy story of Cyclonus & Tailgate as a pairing. 99% non-smutty, _this time_.

**Pairing**

Cyclonus & Tailgate (w/ mild-mentioned Chromedome & Rewind)

**Warnings**

None

_**856 Words**_

* * *

Rung jolted so hard in his seat his knees smashed into the bottom of his desk, causing the model he was working on to come unglued and just fall apart. He tried not to be angry but it was hard, considering the only person that ever knocks on his door is either Swerve or Skids trying to do what every time they succeed in - mess up his work.

He opened the door to give the two pranksters a piece of his mind - or rather theirs, as his occupancy describes - only to see Tailgate standing at his door.

"Oh! Hello Tailgate - what brings you here? Is something bothering you perhaps?"

"No, Rung, but I think something is bothering Cyclonus."

It took him a moment to process that, as strange of a sentence as it was, but his facial expression never changed as he quietly studied Tailgate. "Would you like to come in?"

Tailgate took the suggestion and walked inside, having a seat at the plush half-berth-half-seat thing Rung seemed so keen on having his patients sit on. "What makes you say that, Tailgate?"

"Well basically - like I've been telling you, that feeling in my spark I get around Cyclonus - well I was talking to Chromedome about it, and he was telling me about sparkbonding and stuff - and the other night I'd walked in on Cyclonus self-servicing, and when I woke up he'd moved out and Drift told me where he was and everyone keeps asking me, what do you think Tailgate or how do you feel Tailgate and nobody ever asks _Cyclonus_ and I was at his door getting really mad you know and being a brave mech like Chromedome said and Cyclonus was scaring me to the pit but I stood up for once you know and told him-"

Rung took a moment to process the _pure word soup_ Tailgate was telling him to sort it into something vaguely intelligible. It seemed like so many things were going on in Tailgate's mind that they all sort of just came out of his mouth in a _mess_ of ideas and concerns.

"-and he was telling me something or other and it hit me that Cyclonus is an old-fashioned mech, with his patriotism about how Cybertron was and his singing and old vernacular, that maybe he thinks courting or anything beyond saving me from Whirl would be a waste of time because in the end you can't spark bond you know but the war is over now, I don't think he thought of that! But he shut me out again and I'm worried Rung, he's got nobody but himself and me - and now he's shutting me out too. Isn't that unhealthy or some slag?"

"Tailgate - yes, for one, it is _very_ unhealthy for Cyclonus to shut himself off from everyone. But did it ever occur to you that perhaps his way of dealing with pain is to pretend it isn't there?"

Tailgate stopped entirely and just _stared_ at Rung.

"..._Huh?_"

"Tailgate - Cyclonus was at war. Even worse, he was a_ very_ high ranking officer in the war. Anyone he ever cared for - friend, lover, comrade - were targets to try and get him to break. If he ever invested any emotion into anyone at all, they would most certainly be dead. It is in my belief that as Cyclonus is now - he still believes that if he invests emotion in anyone, they will be gone _somehow_ - and he will just_ hurt_ again. That's all he's associated any sort of bond with."

"Cyclonus, _hurt_? Come _on_, Rung-"

"This is_ absolutely_ possible Tailgate. Cyclonus may be a fearsome, tireless warrior - seemingly undefeatable. But don't you remember when you pulled Cyclonus's unconscious, bleeding form into the medbay, shouting for help? Even the strongest of mechs can be hurt. And as it's very difficult to hurt him physically, that does _necessarily_ mean he can't be hurt emotionally."

"So it's pointless to persue him? It's just a hopeless endeavor and he'll just have to be_ alone_ the rest of his function?"

"Not at all. He just needs someone willing to show him that wartime has ended and he doesn't have an entire legion of mechs after him and anyone he loves. He avoids speaking to you because he believes by treating you like any other mech on the ship, regardless of how much he may enjoy your presence, he is protecting you. You need to show him that wartime is _over_ and he can enjoy your company like any other mech can all he wants and you will most _certainly not_ perish because of it."

"Then...where do I even _start_?"

"First, I believe giving him some space will help, especially after your accidental intrusion. He needs to collect his thoughts and calm himself around you - this will help immensely. You need to collect yourself as well, Tailgate - it is possible Cyclonus might just enjoy being alone, and you need to accept the possibility before you do _anything_."


	5. Uncertain Certainty P5

**Ficlet Name**

Uncertain Certainty _PART 5 (FINAL)_

**Summary**

Short sweet & fluffy story of Cyclonus & Tailgate as a pairing. 99% non-smutty, _this time_.

**Pairing**

Cyclonus & Tailgate (w/ mild-mentioned Chromedome & Rewind)

**Warnings**

None

_**2,154 Words**_

* * *

It had been at least 10 cycles since Tailgate spoke to, heard from or even _saw_ Cyclonus. With his new quarters so far away, he had no idea when Cyclonus was home or when he was at the bar or working - he had rightly _no idea_ where Cyclonus was at _any_ point in time and the prospect of it was rather unsettling. He'd gotten used to having him a fixed point in his life and it was like pulling _teeth_ preventing himself from marching up to Drift's desk and asking him to locate the warrior for him just so Tailgate could look at Cyclonus and see that he was even _alright_. But he needed to give him space, and besides, he needed time to plan.

First, he spent their '_separation time'_ at Swerve's - and in the mess hall, and at any social function he'd _heard_ of gleaming courting advice from any mech that would crane their heads down long enough to speak to the minibot. He'd had no idea how much such a simple thing could have changed in the six million years he was stuck in that_ hole_ and he wasn't about to take his chances. Thankfully it hadn't really changed at all; the first good news he'd had in a while.

He started off with little gifts to show his interest: holodiscs with movies he thought Cyclonus may enjoy, of which he had Rewind's help with; energon treat packages he managed to win from Ratchet in a drunken grapple-dodging contest in the bar. Then came the heavier gifts, to show how serious he was about courting Cyclonus, such as a beautiful rainbow of crystals from the Towers gardens in Cybertron's more beautiful days, something he'd managed to gleam from Perceptor by _working his aft off_ in the science lab; an expensive, luxurious detailing kit from Sunstreaker he'd managed to get by promising to take care of Bob for a few cycles to give Sunstreaker a break -_not an easy task at all, by the way_. Half his quarters had either scuffs, gouges or some strange sort of..._leakage_ all over it.

Next would come personal outings together, if Cyclonus had even shown any sort of impression that he even_ received_ any of Tailgate's gifts.

After at least 60 cycles and a menagerie of _extravagant_ gifts that were most _certainly not easy_ to get ahold of, Tailgate was starting to think he may need a more direct approach; which found him standing, once again, in front of Cyclonus's door, _petrified_ of knocking. And once again, his hesitation found him entirely startled as the door swung open to reveal a rather unimpressed mono-horned warrior.

"Oh! Cyclonus I uh- you _see_ I, _um_..." Tailgate paused, mustered up every bit of spine he had and thrust another gift at Cyclonus- a very long tube, much like those a wall hang would come in. "Would you like to accompany me on an _outing_ of sorts-uh-_Cyclonus_...?"

Cyclonus stared at the prettily wrapped gift, this having been the first time he'd had to _actually_ accept one. The rest were left on his door - a few of which he'd nearly stepped on upon entering his room. If he accepted, he would just be goading Tailgate's affections on - if he refused, he may never hear from the minibot again.

All Cyclonus did was take the tube from Tailgate and mutter a time at him, before slipping into his room and shutting the door.

* * *

At the time specified, no earlier no later, Cyclonus heard a quiet tapping on the door. He vaguely wondered where Tailgate may take him, but the only real place they could go for an outing was Swerve's bar. Part of him wanted to call the thing off, but before he knew what he was doing, he found himself walking down the hall with Tailgate..._past_ Swerve's bar?

"Tailgate, where _exactly_ are you _taking_ us?"

"You'll see!"

The minibot's visor was _gleaming_, Cyclonus assumed from nerves. But by the time they arrived at their intended destination, he was practically _vibrating_ with excitement. They were in the lower corner of the ship, far from any place a mech like _Tailgate_ would have _any_ reason to go. Suspicions high, Cyclonus steeled himself as Tailgate opened the door, and for the first time in a long time he found himself completely _awestruck_. The room was in the belly of the ship, a sort of abandoned core room with half a core inside; probably being salvaged for parts when needed. But the minute they walked in, Tailgate went to a circuit breaker for the room and flipped a few switches...and the room _lit up_. Not with lamps or spotlights, but with dazzling _reflections_. He had repositioned the ceiling lights and covered them with stencils of sorts - so they all point at the dismantled _corpse_ of an engine core and reflect off, creating a sort of starlight effect across every surface of the room as well as a sort of borealis; a rainbow of colours danced off the core into the high ceiling of the room, what liquid remaining in the core causing them to ripple like the sun on water. So many lights shining directly on the core caused the core itself to sparkle and glow, much like a spark would. It was the most beautiful thing Cyclonus had ever seen off Cybertron's surface and it stunned him into place for several long, blissfully quiet moments.

Tailgate stood still, not fidgeting nor trying to fill the silence with a rambling vocaliser for _once_ in his function, and he could _not_ have picked a better time to do it. Cyclonus was, admittedly, thoroughly impressed with Tailgate. First the simple gifts like Cyclonus's favourite films he had thought he would never have the pleasure of ever viewing again after Cybertron's downfall. Then the rest, like the crystals from the Towers, and the beautiful wall scroll of one of Cybertron's most beloved landmarks; little had Tailgate known, it was one of his favourite places in Cybertron's golden age, and now he could gaze upon it whenever he wished; it may not be the real thing, but it was as close as he could get, now.

Cyclonus walked through the room and stood, gazing at the old torn apart core and how beautiful Tailgate had managed to make it, and thought to himself about the whole thing, vaguely aware of Tailgate seating himself by his feet. The minibot was as old as he was, but he never saw the war. He had no bias as far as factions went. He was as innocent as a sparkling, but not _entirely_ as stupid. He was far more clever than he gave himself credit. He trusted Cyclonus with his entire being; in the past cycles especially, Tailgate gave Cyclonus _everything_. It would have made no difference if he took his spark out, put it in a basket and left that on his step. Cyclonus wasn't_ completely_ sparkless; if anything, Tailgate's naivety and complete and utter dependence on Cyclonus was _appealing_ to him somehow. As weak and useless as the minibot was, Cyclonus -and Rung, who was the one who came up with the observation in the first place- mused that Cyclonus felt any enjoyment in Tailgate's presence at all due to Tailgate fulfilling his every need. Tailgate looked at the warrior and saw not the murderous Decepticon general Mighty Cyclonus who'd slain countless Autobots, but just Cyclonus as he was; a weapon without a war.

In one of his first sessions with Rung, the psychiatrist had pointed out the_ very thing_ Cyclonus _never_ wanted to _ever_ hear pointed out; the warrior felt _lost_. His entire function up to this point was tactics, maneuvers, _blood_ and _death_. The silence of peace time was deafening; when he slept, his digits twitched and he _squirmed_; and when he woke, his audials rang with the sound of fading blaster fire and the cries of slain Autobots and Decepticons alike. First there was Cybertron; then there was the war. When Cyclonus's first love and his only true home Cybertron had fallen, Cyclonus's home became the helm of a ship that demolished and left lifeless all it sailed by named the Great _War_; and now, he has no home at all. Cyclonus has _nothing_ but memories.

And then Tailgate came along, on a half-mad crew in a ship with too many secrets on a pointless, goal-less journey. If he was honest with himself, the minibot was correct; he followed him _wherever_ he went. Tailgate was his only lead on anything in his function anymore, the only thing exciting or even _remotely_ interesting. It wasn't what he said, Primus no, but how he_ did_ things; the minibot was an enigma, his neverending riddle; he felt that if he could figure out why the factionless little _mistake_ took any interest in him at all, he could figure out what he was supposed to do now that the war was over. But once again, Tailgate had beaten him to the punch; and he was _right_. _Tailgate_ was what he was supposed to do after the war was over. Cyclonus needed something to protect, to _cherish_, he needed something that needed _him_. First he felt as if the planet needed him; and he fought for her. He felt as if the war needed him; and he raged, and _tormented_ any who opposed his side's cause. And yet he had lost both; Primus be _damned_ if the universe made him lose _his_ minibot.

Tailgate was quietly staring at the beautiful core, letting Cyclonus do what he did best and _brood_. Rewind had told him about something he thought he'd try out; _companionable silence_. It seemed to be working. He watched a range of emotions roll through Cyclonus's eyes; although his facial expression never changed one bit, his optics spoke _volumes_, something Tailgate had picked up watching him in the bar. As he watched Cyclonus's face, waiting for the warrior to say anything at _all_, he saw once again something he thought he would _never_ see; he saw Cyclonus look at him, and he saw the warrior's optics _soften_. Cyclonus first sat down beside Tailgate, and then held his servo out, hesitated a moment, and then gently touched Tailgate's chin with the side of his forefinger; he then extended his hand, and ran his thumb along the top of Tailgate's visor, watching as it lit up brighter and more dazzling than the core in front of them as the minibot's spark pounded and raced in his chestplates. Cyclonus then wrapped an arm around him, lifted and placed him in his lap, and held him tightly to his chest. Tailgate at first thought that he would just _cease_ to function _entirely_. Then the warrior began to _sing _to him, and his spark stopped in his chest, and he was _positive_ he wouldn't survive the night.

The usual songs Cyclonus would sing were loud, and heavy, and deep; songs that the _whole universe_ were meant to hear, were it possible. This was softer, quieter, as if Tailgate and Tailgate _alone_ were ever meant to hear it; Cyclonus sung it in Old vernacular, and Tailgate could only understand a few words, but each one he managed to recognize made his spark jump and skip in his chest. He heard things like "_hush now_", and "_it's alright_", words near what he understood as "_beloved_" and "_guard_", and he got the distinct impression the warrior was making an _oath_ to him. He shook and quivered by the time it was over, and the moment Cyclonus met his optics again, Tailgate fell to pieces in his arms with _happiness_. He had _finally_ taken him seriously, and he felt as if nothing in his entire function could _ever_ match this moment in terms of the _joy_ Tailgate felt.

Cyclonus, as always, was silent, stoic even, but his optics betrayed him every emotion; they shone and hardened with a new sort of determination, a new mission of sorts; one he never intended on failing, even if it meant the doom of him.

* * *

_I really really hope you guys enjoyed this; I worked my butt off on it, and it may be nearly smut-free but still. Give me a break, I can't write smut all the time. Hopefully it wasn't too corny or OOC; I really did try avoiding it. It's hard to write a character that talks pretty much never ever. _

_Reviews get me to get off my butt and write more, so throw me a bone now and then if you want to see more!_


	6. Cyclonus & Tailgate - Kiss

**Ficlet Name**

_N/A_

**Summary**

Tailgate wants Cyclonus to kiss him.

**Pairing**

Cyclonus & Tailgate

**Warnings**

None

_**415 Words**_

* * *

There were many things that benefited both the warrior from the weak and the timid from the stubborn. One of these things were that if Tailgate wanted _anything_ from Cyclonus he needed to_ directly ask;_ this forced Tailgate to come out of his shell more around others, and was honestly making his life a _lot_ easier. Except when he wanted something like this.  
Purely selfish. _Mostly_ selfish. _Slightly_ selfish but he was a mech_ too,_ damn it, and maybe not all mechs are created equal but all _sparks_ are, and Primus _damn it_ did his spark _want this._  
Tailgate entirely lacked any sort of denta, lips, pliable metal, a glossa or _anything_ that could even_ remotely_ allow him to initiate a kiss from Cyclonus in which Cyclonus would be able to return to him. If he'd tried, _and he unfortunately had_, it would seem -_and was_- very very strange and embarrassing. All he'd managed to do is clank their faces together in an attempt to goad a kiss from Cyclonus's lips against his faceplate, and now he sat there next to him in their special spot by the broken core mending what was _left_ of his pride and dignity. Cyclonus had no _remote_ idea what Tailgate was trying to accomplish and simply chastised him for not asking for whatever it was in the first place. No matter _what_ it was, simply asking for it would have been a lot less embarrassing than Tailgate's alternative.  
It sure didn't feel like it with the dumbstruck expression Cyclonus gave him when he _did_ stammer out a request for a kiss. Tailgate shrunk further into himself and wished he'd been onlined with the power to disappear.  
His complete mortification was short lived when a clawed hand cupped his jaw and lifted, bringing his face to Cyclonus's - which was infinitesimally _closer_ than the last time he'd looked up. Tailgate's entire structure seized as Cyclonus's lips pressed to Tailgate's faceplate, so gently and so _warm_; and all too soon pulled away. Tailgate just stared into his optics as everything settled back down, too lost in them to notice the tiny blip of a warning from his stabilizers before he toppled over quite unceremoniously, proceeding to bash his helm into the floor.  
The booming laughter that filled the room took all the pain away, and as Tailgate lay on the floor listening to Cyclonus's laugh he felt once again that he might not survive the night with his spark entirely intact.


End file.
